


Snowfall

by kitsunerei88



Series: Snowfall [1]
Category: Skip Beat!
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-12-05 05:01:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitsunerei88/pseuds/kitsunerei88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s Christmas Eve, and LME has given all of its employees a couple of days off. Thinking Ren might be lonely, Yashiro sends Kyoko to see him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“What am I doing tonight?” Kyoko pursed her lips, thinking. Her restless fingers toyed with a charm hanging off of her cell phone. Lory had declared that “Christmas is a holiday for love!” and had given everyone in the LME agency both Christmas Eve and Christmas off. She had been planning to work the night at Darumaya, for it would be the busiest nights of the year, but the Okami-san had surprised her by giving her the night off after she helped the Taisho make a huge batch of rice and noodles. “I don’t think I’m doing anything, why?”

“Is that so?” Yashiro’s voice perked up, and a smile spread over his face. “Well, Ren is always lonely at Christmas,” he said, pleased with how well the lie rolled off the tongue. He knew full well that Ren would spend most of his break reading. “And you know his eating habits, he’ll spend all Christmas eating instant noodles. Do you think you could drop by later and keep him company for a bit?” 

“Umm, okay,” Kyoko said, her voice uncertain. Somehow, she couldn’t see Tsuruga-san pining away on Christmas Eve, but she didn’t really feel like being alone on Christmas either. Stupid couples. Stupid romances on TV. Stupid Shotaro. She sighed, looking out the window. “If I’m going to go, I better leave soon – it’s snowing pretty hard.”

“Thanks, Kyoko-chan,” Yashiro’s voice echoed his gratefulness, but his face echoed something different, something slightly evil. Christmas, he thought, would be a perfect time to get Ren and Kyoko together!

“No problem, Yashiro-san,” Kyoko said. She was absentmindedly glancing around her room, thinking about what to bring. Obviously she would need her coat, hat and mittens, and probably she would need one of her cookbooks; it would be impossible now to get a Christmas cake, so she would probably have to bake one from scratch. Perhaps the supermarket down the road was still open too, so she could buy the ingredients there. Oh, and she would have to bring Tsuruga-san’s present, too. She had initially intended on giving it to him on the 26th, but that would not be necessary now. “I’ll see you on the 26th at the Tsukigomori filming, right?” she asked Yashiro-san, spotting his present sitting beside Tsuruga-san’s. “I’ll give you your present then, okay?”

“Oh, thank you,” Yashiro’s voice betrayed his surprise. “I’ll see you on the 26th, then. Bye.” Only after he pressed the end button did he begin to laugh, imagining Ren’s face as Kyoko showed up on his doorstep on Christmas Eve, of all days. Now, with luck, Ren wouldn’t screw everything up, and they would be a couple by the 26th. 

Kyoko shut her cell phone with a clack and tucked it back into her bag. She grabbed Tsuruga-san’s present and her dessert cookbook and tucked that away too, and pulled her coat, hat and mittens out of her closet. “Present, check, cell phone, check, wallet, check, keys, check, cookbook, check,” she murmured, glancing through the contents of her bag. Looking outside her window, she could see that it was snowing pretty hard, or rather, pretty thickly. It was the kind of snow that had big, fat snowflakes, but not a lot of wind. Very romantic, she thought bitterly, spotting a young couple nuzzling noses on the street. An older couple strolled past them, laughing. She sighed and clattered down the stairs to the doors before pulling on her coat, hat and mittens. “I’m off,” she called to the Okami-san who absentmindedly nodded and told her to have fun. The restaurant was getting busier. 

In his neat third floor apartment, Ren settled back in his leather couch, a stack of novels on the mahogany coffee table in front of him. Strangely enough, even for those who knew him, these novels were all in English. In magazines and on the air, Ren Tsuruga had no more command of the English language than the average Japanese businessman. Christmas was his only chance each year to settle back and read his favourite English books without interruption.

Well, until the doorbell rang. He sighed and set down _The Life of Pi_ , thinking darkly that if it were a door-to-door salesman, he might just snap and hit him. No, he thought, mentally shaking himself and taking several deep breaths. No, of course he wouldn’t, because that wasn’t something that Ren Tsuruga would do. No, he decided, if it was a door to door salesman, he would pretend he wasn’t there. Yes, that’s it, he thought, conveniently forgetting that this building was card-locked and door-to-door salesmen wouldn’t even be able to get to his apartment. Looking through the peephole, however, he saw Kyoko – Kyoko, who looked somewhat uncertain, and yet twice as beautiful as usual, with snow melting into water droplets on her hat, in her hair, even in her eyelashes. No, not twice as beautiful, he thought, because that would no justice to her. Four times as beautiful, maybe. Hell, even fourteen times as beautiful. He opened the door for her as Kyoko looked uncertainly at the doorbell, clearly wondering if she should press it again. He saw a smile spread across her round face, as she tilted her head up to look at him. In an adoring manner, his mind purred to him. You'd wish, wouldn't you?

“Mogami-san, what brings you here?” He smiled down at the petite girl, only noticing now that she carried a large paper grocery bag with both arms. His fingers itched to wipe a loose, cold, wet strand of hair from her face, but he kept them locked on the doorframe. "Come in," he invited, eyeing her wet clothes with concern. "You must be freezing." 

“Yashiro-san told me that you would be lonely tonight, because it’s Christmas Eve,” she told him cheerfully as she shed her shoes and hat. “So I came over to keep you company. Um, where do you want me to put this?” She lifted up the grocery bag. “I bought ingredients for a Christmas cake, I thought we could maybe bake it together.”

“The kitchen is fine,” Ren said, taking her coat from her. “Your hat and mittens can go . . .” he paused, glancing around. “On that table over there is fine.” She nodded, shifting the bag to brush a couple strands of damp hair behind her ears and pattered into the kitchen with her ingredients.

Well, Ren thought with amusement, packing away his stack of books, clearly I won’t be able to read tonight. Somehow, however, he could not bring himself to be angry about this. 

When he joined Kyoko in the kitchen, he saw she had dug out an apron from somewhere, and had arranged a lot of mysterious ingredients out on a counter. She was gazing mournfully up at one of the cupboards. He sighed, recalling the last time that Kyoko had tried to get things from the cupboards in his kitchen. “What do you need?”

Kyoko brightened upon hearing his voice behind her. She really had not wanted to repeat an experience like the last time; facing the Emperor of the Night was not on her list of priorities. “Umm, I need a mixing bowl, a measuring cup, and a baking pan.” Her cookbook was open on the counter as well, and she skimmed the directions as Ren dug out the requested items from a cupboard. He was surprised he even owned a measuring cup. “A couple extra bowls might be a good idea too,” she called over, as she poured flour into the mixing bowl. 

He brought over two extra bowls as Kyoko shoved the mixing bowl into his hands. “Sift that flour, would you?” she asked. “I have to whisk these eggs.” 

“Sift?” 

“Run your fingers through it like this,” she demonstrated, taking the bowl back and setting it on the counter. Pulling up his sleeves, he imitated her action while she broke the eggs into another bowl and whisking them furiously with a spoon. 

“Why are we baking a Christmas cake?” Ren asked cautiously, as Kyoko managed to somehow keep all the egg in the bowl. He probably had a whisk somewhere, but he wasn't sure. 

“Because it’s Christmas,” Kyoko replied, surprised. She set down the eggs and poured a measuring cup of sugar into them. “On Christmas, we should have a Christmas cake, and I don’t imagine you bought one, and they're sold out now. These eggs are done, so pour them in with the flour.” She strode off, picking up the second of the extra bowls, and poured some milk in it. Turning to the microwave, she put in the milk and heated it.

“No, I didn’t,” Ren said, carefully pouring the eggs into his flour. Silence reigned as he tried to find another topic of conversation. “But why are you here baking one? I would have thought that you would be working tonight.”

“Okami-san surprised me today,” Kyoko said, popping the milk out of the microwave. Sticking a finger in it, she pulled it out quickly, wincing, and gave her hand an odd flick. Ren was suddenly seized with the desire to walk over there and kiss those darling fingers better. He glanced down at his mixing bowl, regaining his composure, as she, having noticed nothing unusual, slid butter into the hot milk. She walked purposefully back to where Ren stood, holding a bowl of eggs, sugar and flour, and dumped the milk and butter mixture in with it. “Your choice; wash these dishes and preheat the oven, or stir this.”

“I’ll stir the batter,” he decided. “What do you mean?”

“I was going to work tonight, but Okami-san gave me the evening off after I helped Taisho make a lot of rice and noodles. You know, it’s the busiest night of the year. You’re stirring the batter wrong.”

“What?” Ren blinked. “There’s a way to stir batter wrong?”

“Yes, and it’s the way you’re doing it. You’re going to make it clump.” She grabbed the bowl from him, brushing his hand and demonstrated. “Like this.” She stirred the batter far more evenly than he had done it, with wide, even strokes, before passing the bowl back to him. "You try."

He was too dazed from the sudden contact to really have been paying attention to her demonstration. “Like this?” He made some sort of attempt of what he thought she had done.

“No, use wider strokes. You're missing spots.”

In the end, it took him about four tries before he could stir batter to her satisfaction. She dashed around his kitchen doing mysterious things before he had found another topic. “But aren’t Christmas cakes what you share with a,” he hesitated, knowing this was a delicate subject. “A romantic partner?” 

Kyoko dropped the baking pan that she had been lining with wax paper. Turning to him, he was almost surprised to see the expression on her face. Almost. 

“No. Not at all,” she told him in a flat tone, her eyes dark, her face having lost its usual good humour.

“Of course,” he agreed with her hastily, wanting her to lose that expression. “What do I do with this?” He raised the bowl. She raised an eyebrow and glanced into the bowl, where the batter was now an even, dark brown colour. 

“Mix it a bit longer,” she said, staring at it critically. “It doesn’t really need it, but the oven hasn’t come to temperature yet, and a little extra stirring doesn’t hurt." She paused, flicking the oven lights on. He didn't even know there was a switch for that. "Yes, that should be good.” She took the bowl from him, and poured it into the baking pan, just as the oven beeped. “Ah, that means it’s at temperature. Open the oven door for me?” He obeyed, and to his surprise, she slid the pan into the oven without putting on oven mitts. Noticing the look on his face, she asked, “What’s wrong?”

“You stuck your bare hands into a hot oven.”

“Yes, I did."

“. . . Isn’t that a little dangerous?”

Kyoko paused to consider, setting the timer on the oven. “The pan wasn’t hot yet," she said, as if that answered the question. "Leave it in the oven to bake for about half an hour. Have you eaten anything yet?”

Ren smiled. “Of course I have,” he said, beaming.

“. . . and what exactly did you eat?” Kyoko was instantly suspicious.

“Err. . .” Ren paused, caught in his lie. Kyoko really was getting to know him far too well. “Instant noodles. With a bit of torn up sandwich meat and an egg. . ." he improvised, hoping he sounded believable.

“Liar.” She sighed. “I haven’t eaten yet either, so I’ll make some nikujaga while we wait for the cake to bake. Go set the table, it won’t take too long. But can you get a large pan for me first?” She pulled out the potatoes and meat she had bought for this very situation from her grocery bag. She set the pan that Ren pulled down for her on the stove, poured in vegetable oil, and began chopping the meat and potatoes with seemingly inhuman dexterity.

Ren sighed, he hoped, unnoticed, as he exited the kitchen to his dining room with an armful of placemats, chopsticks, and spoons. Why would Yashiro-san tell Kyoko he was lonely on Christmas Eve? He knew that Kyoko would feel the need to come over and keep him company, he thought, mildly annoyed. He could not truly feel angry at his manager as he watched Kyoko wander, businesslike, around the kitchen, sleeves rolled up and apron on. She really was far too cute with that apron on. Her auburn hair, almost dry after it’s exposure to the elements outside, danced around her face as she stirred the meat and potatoes. How he would like to brush his lips across a few strands of that hair, wrap his arms around that slim frame, breathe in her distinctive, flowery scent. He shook his head, realizing that he had been staring. He glanced out the window; it was snowing harder now, and he was struck with an idea.

He dropped his placemats, spoons and chopsticks onto the table, and quietly slipped off to the storage room. After all, what was better in cold weather than a kotatsu for keeping warm, and dare he think it, being romantic? And if Kyoko asked, he could just say that he set it up earlier, and that it was chilliest close to the windows. She looked preoccupied now, so it wasn’t likely that she would notice the switch. Quietly, he set up the kotatsu and removed the table, setting it only after he turned on the heat. He wandered back into the kitchen.

“You can go watch TV or something, if you like,” she said, noticing he was back. “There isn’t too much left to do, unless you want to wash those dishes.” She nodded towards the sink, which now held the mixing bowl, measuring cup, and various utensils. “The nikujaga will be done soon, and the cake should be done in the next five minutes or so. Then I’ll just put icing and fruit on the cake while we let the nikujaga simmer.”

“I’ll wash dishes then. After all, Mogami-san, you were kind enough to come over and cook.” He meandered over to the sink, watching her discreetly out of the corner of his eye. True to her word, the oven sounded soon after, and he watched as she pulled it out of the oven (using mitts this time), sliced it in half horizontally, put whipped cream inside the two layers, top it with more cream, and set six strawberries around the top. It was almost like a dance, he thought, as she moved busily between the cake and the stove to check on the stew. He finished the dishes just as she poured the nikujaga evenly onto two plates. 

“Take the cake out to the table,” she smiled. “It’ll be our dessert.” She easily hefted dinner and moved gracefully out to the dining room, stopping short when she saw it was a kotatsu.

“A kotatsu?” Kyoko turned to give a dark look to Tsuruga-san, who followed after. “Why a kotatsu?”

“It’s cold in the dining room.” Ren replied, using all of his acting skill to make it sound obvious. “It’s snowing harder now, and there's a draft coming from that window.” He nodded towards the window, not trusting himself to balance the cake with one hand. He evaluated Kyoko's reaction carefully; she would probably buy it. She viewed him as a Demon Lord, and the idea that her presence sparked the use of the kotatsu wouldn't even cross her mind.

Kyoko stared up at Ren; his expression was open, innocent. This being Tsuruga-san, however, that didn't mean much. She turned her gaze on the kotatsu; the tabletop was plain glass, turned blue by the colour of the puffy duvet that lay beneath it. It really was fairly plain as kotatsus went, but still . . . She didn’t really want to sit at a thing with such, such romantic connotations, but Tsuruga-san had spoken with reason. It was cold in this room due to lack of stove. Sighing, she set down the food on the placemats, and sat down, wrapping her lower body in the duvet. Tsuruga-san set the cake down in the centre of the table and set himself down opposite her. 

“Do you want to turn on the TV, Mogami-san?” asked Ren, his manner mild.

“I’d rather not, if it’s all right with you, Tsuruga-san,” she replied, barely keeping herself from scowling. Watching romantic couples on TV on Christmas Eve was not her idea of a good time. 

“All right,” Ren agreed easily, eating. The room fell into brief silence as Kyoko focused on her own food, and he contemplated something. “Kyoko-chan,” he began uncertainly. 

Kyoko dropped her spoon into her half empty plate and looked at him suspiciously. “Yes?” She asked, her voice edged with suspicion.

“I was just thinking that even my manager is allowed to call you that. Why not me?”

Kyoko studied his open face cautiously, noting that there was no malice in his voice. Of course, being that this was Tsuruga-san, that meant nothing. However, the fact that her anger-sensing demon wasn’t out was more reliable. She rose from her seat and checked his forehead. Nope, no fever, she thought.

“Would you like to call me Kyoko-chan?” she asked, as bemused as he was after her strange action. 

“I would like that very much,” Ren smiled. “I would also like it very much if you would call me Ren-kun,” he continued, his voice deepening. At that moment, the power went off, cutting off whatever he had left to say.

Kyoko thought that that had good timing, at least; Tsuruga-san had missed the look of incredulous confusion and suspicion that tore across her features. She would have to check his head again later; maybe he was running a temperature, and she just missed it the first time. For the time being, however, she chose to ignore his words. She rose and opened the curtains, bringing a ghostly light into the apartment. “It really is snowing out. The wind’s picked up since I left Darumaya. . . I can’t even see the streetlights,” she commented. True to her word, the streetlights, normally visible from Ren’s third-story apartment, were only faint blurs of yellow. The window dimly illuminated the room, just enough for Ren to make out Kyoko’s silhouette.

“I’ll go get a flashlight.” Ren said, his demeanor calm. Inwardly, he could have been celebrating. “And perhaps a couple of candles.”

“Have you got a radio?” Kyoko asked. She had now come to the realization that she was trapped in the dark with a man who quite possibly wanted her to call him Ren-kun, which made her earlier relief at this turn of events disappear. Who could know who she was talking to now? It could be Tsuruga-san, or it could be the Demon Lord, or worst of all, it could be the Emperor of the Night. She prayed it was the first. “We’ll need to check the forecast." Her voice, contrary to her feelings, was strong and she was glad to hear, perfectly reasonable.

“In the kitchen. Can you find your way there?”

“I will be fine. There’s just enough light from the window that I won’t trip.” 

Ren had entered the kitchen with a couple flashlights, holding two candles before Kyoko had found the elusive radio. He passed her a flashlight, the candles and a matchbox before easily digging out the radio from behind the toaster. Returning to the kotatsu, Kyoko briskly lit the candles and set them in high enough places to transmit light to the rest of the room (carefully avoiding placing any candles on the table, to Ren’s disappointment), as Ren fiddled with the controls of the radio, bringing into focus a news channel.

“. . . worst blizzard in over a decade,” an announcer’s voice was saying, “so I hope you and your loved ones are inside! Temperatures are supposed to fall to negative twenty degrees Celsius tonight with wind chill, so we advise you don’t go outside. Oh? What’s this?” A pause came in the announcer’s voice. “Also, we have a power outage in several districts of Tokyo.” The man’s voice trailed on, listing the different districts. Kyoko recognized her own on the list. “We hope to restore power as soon as possible. Now, in world news, the Supreme Court of Pakistan . . . ” the announcer continued on, his voice not wavering an inch. 

“Well,” Ren’s voice came out of the semi-darkness. “I don’t think you can go home tonight, Kyoko-chan. You should call the Okami-san to tell her you’re safe.” 

Kyoko struggled quietly with his logic, but gave up, seeing his point. The walk back to Darumaya in negative twenty degree weather sounded even less appealing than spending a night at Tsuruga-san’s apartment. She knew he had a spare bedroom, and it wasn't as if it would be her first time staying over. The only difference would be that Tsuruga-san would not be feverish and possibly hallucinating with a cold. As ashamed as she was for thinking it, she wished it was that Tsuruga-san that was in the room with her now; an ill Tsuruga-san would not be either the Demon Lord or the Emperor of the Night. 

“Have you a landline?” she asked, resigned. “With those winds, cell phones won’t have any signal at all . . ."


	2. Midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s the middle of the night in the worst blizzard in a decade, there’s no power, and more importantly, there’s no heat.

The first thing Kyoko noticed was that the ballroom was crowded. The men wore suits; the women wore beautiful cocktail dresses in all colours. Looking down, she saw she, too, was wearing a sequined, floor-length dress in creamy white. Near the distant walls, she could make out the blurred figures of cameras and sound systems. 

“Are you all right?” Tsuruga-san approached her from behind, his voice low. It wasn’t quite right, Kyoko thought. There was a note in there, something she didn’t quite recognize. Discontent, maybe? Disapproval? Certainly not anger, for her demon antenna was not out. No, she thought, it wasn't that. She was more in tune with Tsuruga-san’s emotions than that. No, that note definitely sounded like pain. Well-hidden, but there nonetheless. 

“Yes, I’m fine,” she replied, her voice as quiet as his, laced with concern for her senpai. “Are you all right?”

He sighed. “I’m fine,” he said, the corner of his mouth turning up in a smile. Everything else about him contested this fact; his suit was uncharacteristically wrinkled, his eyes were tired, and his hair was a mess. Kyoko doubted he’d slept. She was about to press him further when a woman wearing a navy-blue pantsuit approached him with a microphone, and he gave one last smile to her and drifted away to speak to the reporter. 

Kyoko studied the banquet hall in more detail, thinking. It was vast; a little too warm. The walls, further away than should be possible, were guilded. Chairs were arranged in rows in the front of the room, and people were chatting, loudly and excitedly. She heard, underneath the chatter of the people, a classical tune; Pachelbel’s Canon in D? Perhaps this was a set for a movie? That would explain Tsuruga-san’s presence, and the cameras. It would even explain his sadness and his appearance; perhaps his role was a sad one, and he hadn’t gotten out of his role yet. Looking around, she realized she recognized several actors and actresses that she had worked with before. Kuu Hizuri was there, with a woman who could only be his wife, Julie. Momose Itsumi, resplendant in a pale pink, was deep in conversation with Director Ogata, who was dressed to match in a cream-coloured shirt and navy trousers. She also spotted someone else, someone who shouldn’t be there. Someone who had no business in show business. Frowning, she disengaged herself from the back of the hall, where she had apparently been standing close to the exit and followed that familiar figure. 

Saena. It was her mother. Well, that did it. This was a definitely a dream, because her mother had no place at a movie set. The rational part of her mind questioned the presence of Kuu Hizuri, but that was irrelevant. After all, he was an actor! And Julie was of course there to give him support. But Saena, Saena had no place at a movie set. Unless of course this was all a dream, which it must be! 

Well, even if this was a dream, she didn’t feel like talking to her mother. She retreated rapidly to the back of the ballroom, hoping to escape out those doors, but was hampered as people stopped to wish her congratulations. Even dreaming, she smiled and thanked them. After all, it wasn’t important to know what they were congratulating her for; she would probably wake up soon anyway. Glancing over her shoulder, trying to see if she could still see her mother, she ran headfirst into a tall, suited man. His blonde hair sparkled in the lights of the chandelier.

“Whoa, watch where you’re going, honey,” said a voice she recognized. She would recognize this voice anywhere, even though it contained a tone she didn’t normally associate with him. Caring, for one. Affection, for another. She looked up and met the eyes of Shotaro Fuwa. “We wouldn’t want you to fall down on your way to the aisle,” he said, as Kyoko, panicked, looked behind her and saw the masses of people part to reveal a smiling priest and an altar.

The dream spiralled into a nightmare as Kyoko struggled to open her mouth to scream. 

“AIIIIRRRRRRRRGHHHHH!” Kyoko opened her eyes, thrashing around in her blankets, rolling out of her bed as she did so. She landed on the hardwood floor with a loud thump. Struggling to sit up, she disentangled herself with trouble from her sheets and breathed deeply. The air was cold, she realized, momentarily thankful as it brought her to her senses. It was a nightmare, she thought, just a nightmare. After all, Shotaro would never take a second look at her, right? She was plain, and had no sex appeal. She laughed nervously at her own foolish mind, running her fingers through her damp, sweat-soaked hair, her breathing obscenely loud in the silent night.

". . . Time is it?" she wondered aloud, searching for the alarm clock in the dark bedroom. Tsuruga-san’s spare bedroom, she remembered. There should be a clock around her somewhere, she thought, slowly getting up to her feet. She gasped when the cold air hit her bare legs, cursing under her breath as she remembered. After they realized that she would have no choice but to stay the night, Tsuruga-san had offered her an oversized, thick sweater to sleep in. Given his height, the sweater fell to her knees. Unfortunately, despite their best efforts, he had failed to procure anything like pyjama bottoms for her to wear that actually fit. Thinking back, Kyoko regretted turning down the pyjama bottoms he had offered her, even though they were so long that she would have tread over an extra foot of fabric walking anywhere with them and the waistline was about seven inches too large. It was cold. 

Grimacing, she finally found a clock and drew up on another string of curses. It was a bedside digital alarm clock. The lights that should have been blinking the time at her were blank. The power was still out, she realized – and Tsuruga-san must have an electric heating system. That would explain the temperature of the apartment. She gathered up the sheets and blankets without thinking, quietly making the bed out of agitated habit. Sleep was out of the question, at least until she was calmer. She would find out what time it was before planning anything.

Two rooms over, Ren rolled over in his bed. Cold air crept into his bed and over his body, warmth retreating into the night. He had hoped the power would come back on shortly, but there had been no such luck; the heat in the apartment had finally seeped out. And of course he, being something of an insomniac, had been awake to feel every single degree slip away. 

At least Kyoko had fallen asleep fairly quickly, he thought, shifting his pillow into a more comfortable position. He had gotten up to check on her a couple hours ago, and had found her dozing fitfully, rationalizing his behaviour with his concern. If she seemed too cold then, he had been fully prepared to give her all of his blankets too, he had stubbornly insisted to himself before he went. Of course he hadn’t just wanted to catch a glimpse of her sleeping face; so like a child’s, so innocent in her sleep. Closing his eyes, she was still in his mind, breathing slow and even, a lock of chestnut brown hair falling over her eyes. He remembered wanting to take a seat beside her, stroke her face, tuck that stray bit of hair behind one of those crescent-shaped ears; her breathing was light and even, her face tilted to one side, her body curled in the fetal position, facing the wall. The blankets had been clenched tightly with one hand, the other hand tucked under the blankets. He sighed, trying to rid his mind of the image. She had looked so defenceless in her sleep, immediately provoking a desire in him to protect her. Wrap her in his arms, bury his face into her sweet-smelling brown hair, warm her with his body heat. . . Well, he grumbled, rolling over, with luck, the power would come back on sometime in the night, and the apartment would be warm before she woke in the morning. She would never realize a thing. 

“AIIIIRRRRRRRRGHHHHH!” A shriek tore through the apartment from the spare bedroom, followed abruptly by a loud thud. Ren sat upright in bed, alarmed. Kyoko! His mind was seized with nothing but her safety; but another thought hit him only a second later. Clearly, Kyoko was awake – would it be considered appropriate for him to go barging to the spare bedroom to make sure she was safe? He had been awake for the entire night; if anyone had broken in, he would have known. She could be more alarmed by him coming into her room at one in the morning. Thus prompting the question, would it be appropriate for him to go checking on her right now? Probably not, but . . . 

To hell with it, he thought, shaking his head. It would be perfectly appropriate for someone to go checking on someone else after hearing them scream. He swung his long legs off his bed, wincing as they hit the cold hardwood floor, and strode, worried, to the spare bedroom.

Kyoko sighed as she finally finished making the bed. It had taken longer than usual, indicating that she was either upset, tired, or both. In her current state, it was probably both. After all, who wouldn’t be upset after having a dream about marrying their worst enemy? Ugh . . . Marriage on its own was terrifying, without factoring in Shotaro! She sighed again, and reached for the door; Tsuruga-san had a traditional, non-digital clock in the living room, didn’t he?

A soft knock came at her door. “Kyoko?” Tsuruga-san’s voice came through the door. “Are you all right?” 

Kyoko shuddered as he echoed the words of her dream. Of course she would have woken him with her scream; Yashiro-san had told her once that he was a light sleeper, if he slept at all. “Perfectly fine," she replied, keeping her voice steady as she opened the door. His hair was tousled, but his eyes were wide awake. He looked much warmer than she felt in his flannel pyjama set, his tall body hanging gracefully in her doorway, one hand on the doorframe. “Sorry to wake you,” she said, apologetic.

“I was already awake,” Ren replied, his eyes wandering of their own accord to her bare legs, then snapping back up to her face. No, he scolded himself sharply, stopping a few stray thoughts from even surfacing in his brain. She looks cold, doesn't she? His mind whispered conspiratorially. Wouldn’t he like to wrap her up and cuddle her on that bed, oh so conveniently placed this room? He was glad he was such a good actor, for not a single hint of those thoughts ever reached his face. “What’s wrong?” he asked, carefully making sure his face betrayed only concern, despite whatever his mind might be thinking.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Kyoko laughed, a little higher and more nervous than usual. She would have fooled someone else, he realized; it was only that he spent so much time focusing on her small quirks and behaviour that he had even picked up on that. He raised an eyebrow, not satisfied with her answer. “Just . . . just a bad dream,” she continued hesitantly, her eyes falling away from him, focusing on the doorframe lying beneath his hand.

“Do you want to talk about it?” The words sprang unbidden to his lips. 

“No.” He was surprised at how harsh her voice had been, her eyes springing back up to meet his, alarmed. To him, that tone was sharper than the cold of the apartment. Didn’t she trust him? A frown crossed his face, but he erased in an instant. It would not do to drive her away. He changed the subject. “Are you cold?” 

Kyoko hesitated as guilt ran over her. She had caught the frown that flashed across Tsuruga-san’s face. I don’t want to tell him, she thought, distressed, but I don’t want to seem like I don’t trust him, either. Taking a deep breath, she focused on the question at hand. He would think she was weird if she took too long to answer. “A little,” she admitted. Part of her mind realized that under normal circumstances, she would never have admitted it, but it was better to say that and have him forget about the dream altogether. 

“The stove will still work,” Tsuruga-san offered, his voice more tentative than usual. Bad sign, Kyoko thought, inwardly grimacing. Definitely a bad sign. “Since it’s a gas stove. We can make hot chocolate?” 

Kyoko faltered, unsure. On one hand, hot chocolate did sound good, and it would mean she wouldn’t have to go back to bed until the shock of the nightmare had worn off; on the other, she would have to make conversation with Tsuruga-san, hoping the entire time that he remained Tsuruga-san, for she certainly couldn’t deal with the Emperor of the Night in this condition. And there was no guarantee that he wouldn’t bring up the dream again – she wished she hadn’t said anything at all about that stupid dream, but what choice did she have? What other reason did she have for screaming in the middle of the night? In the end, however, the desire for hot chocolate won. “Sure,” she agreed reluctantly, to cover her confusion. She was rewarded with a smile, as Tsuruga-san turned towards the kitchen.

The warmth of the stove cheered her greatly, as Tsuruga-san silently took down a pot. She filled it with water from the tap and set it on the stove. Tsuruga-san fished out two mugs and a container of dry hot chocolate mix as she discreetly tried to warm her fingers over the pot. Silence sprouted in the room, and filled it quickly, broken only by the click of the stove; it was as cold and prickly as the howling winds outside. Neither Kyoko nor Ren were comfortable in the silence, but neither could think of anything to say.

While Kyoko waited for the water to boil, Ren found the matchbox they had used to light the candles the night before left carelessly on the kotatsu. He quickly lit the candles in the living room, contemplating moving one of the candles down onto the kotatsu itself. On the bright side, it would be romantic, and he would like that. However, Kyoko would not take well to it, and she was already on edge. It wouldn’t take much for her to say “I despise you” to him, if he wasn’t careful. Shaking his head, he sighed and decided against it. It wasn’t worth the risk. He seated himself at the kotatsu with a sigh, his mind wandering back to her expression as she refused to tell him about her dream. Alarmed, but not particularly frightened. The way her eyes sprang up to meet his, wider than usual . . . His mind lingered, as it so often did when she was near, on her small movements, her expressions, her speech patterns . . . He was obsessed, he thought with vague disgust, putting his head in his hands. He really was. He stared out the window, their curtains left open for the meagre light earlier. It was still snowing heavily, though it was hard to see anything else. 

“I’m done,” Kyoko called to him softly from the kitchen. He didn’t know how she managed to get the water to boil that fast; whenever he boiled water on the stove, which was rare, it always took at least ten minutes. Usually longer. She came out from the kitchen, balancing two mugs of hot chocolate carefully in her hands, her steps sure in the dim light. 

"Here," she set down a mug of steaming hot chocolate in front of him, cushioning the impact gently with her pinky finger. He wondered where she had picked that up; some drama, perhaps? She seated herself noiselessly across from him, tucking her legs under the kotatsu with considerably less apprehension than before. It wasn’t on, but the blanket had still trapped some heat within the structure. She really must be cold, a part of his mind analyzed distantly. “Is it still . . .” She hesitated, trying to find the right word. “Storming?”

“Snowing, yes,” he replied, his voice soft as hers. He lowered his eyes briefly to his mug of hot chocolate, bringing the mug to his lips. It was good; she hadn’t put a lot of chocolate in his mug. Somehow, it pleased him that she knew that he didn’t like sweets. He didn’t usually drink hot chocolate, and the container had been a gift from an actress he had worked with in another drama. It was supposedly top-quality, but he wouldn’t know the difference. “It’s difficult to tell from the window.” 

“I see,” Kyoko stared down into her mug of hot chocolate, expression difficult to read. Ren eyed her carefully; she seemed to have calmed down now.

“Do you feel like talking about your dream now?” The words slipped out his mouth before he had really thought about it. He waited for her reaction with caution. 

“Not really,” she replied, but her voice wasn’t particularly adamant. Her gaze was still firmly set in bottom of her mug. He wondered what she could see there; the swirl of the milk she stirred into her own cup, perhaps? “It’s not really that interesting.” 

“To the contrary, Kyoko-chan” he teased her gently, taking the initiative. He was curious. “It’s very interesting. You confronted delinquents to find your role for Mio, you willingly sought out your stalker in Karuizawa . . . I think it would be very interesting to find out what left you screaming at one in the morning.” 

Kyoko flushed at the memory, her eyes meeting his. No, no, the dream was just far, far too embarrassing to talk about. Tsuruga-san stared at her, resting his head in one hand, balancing himself gracefully on the table. She didn’t know how he managed it. His eyes curled up at the ends in a hidden smile. “No,” she insisted, ignoring the “Kyoko-chan” that he had so obviously thrown out to taunt her. Part of her realized that half the women in Japan would pay millions of dollars to have Tsuruga-san call them by “–chan.” She wished she could sell the honour; it would pay both tuitions for high school and acting school, and a lot more besides. “Really, it’s not that interesting.” She smiled back at him, reinforcing her words.

“Ahh,” Tsuruga-san murmured softly, voice light. “But seeing as you woke me up with your screaming, I believe you owe me an explanation.” Kyoko raised her eyebrow, watching at him steadily as she sipped on her hot chocolate, as much for show as otherwise. 

“Liar,” she told him, feeling her lips curve up in a smile. “You said you were already awake when you came to check on me. You’re just curious.” She set the mug down. 

Ren dropped the hand that he had been resting his head on, laughing quietly. “So I am,” he agreed. It was playing out the way he had planned, as the atmosphere in the room was now much lighter. “I really wish you would trust me, though,” he said, turning his voice soft and serious, watching her expression with care. This was his trump card; after all, hadn’t she herself said once that she “didn’t want to lose his trust?” 

“I do!” Kyoko started, “It’s just . . .” She hesitated, thinking seriously for the first time about her dream. A dream about a wedding, a seething crowd, camera shutters stuttering, Pachelbel’s Canon . . . Her own wedding, she corrected herself, still horrified that her mind could come up with something so dreadful. To Shotaro. Ignoring that, however, there was another anomalous fact that she hadn’t seen until just now. 

That was Tsuruga-san himself. He had been in her dream, in the very beginning, hadn’t he? She stared into her mug, stroking the handle with her thumb. And he had not been happy; he had sounded in pain, he hadn’t paid as much attention to his appearance as usual, he had looked as if he hadn’t slept all night. Why was that? Why would Tsuruga-san be hurt if, she thought, wincing, if she married Shotaro? Angry, she could understand; she would be furious with herself if she married him at this point. Tsuruga-san knew that she was in show business to get revenge, so he would be angry at her for abandoning her principles, but there was no reason why he would, or should be hurt by this action. . . 

Moko’s words from the karaoke box, so long ago, came back. “Maybe . . . Tsuruga-san likes you?” Moko had been serious, but still . . .

That was ridiculous! She drew her hand back from her mug and smacked the table with her fist. Completely ridiculous! Tsuruga-san had his pick of women in Japan, and Kyoko knew that she wasn’t a prize. Wasn’t she plain and lacking sex appeal? Didn’t she get dumped by Shotaro? No, that was definitely ridiculous. 

But it was the only explanation that made sense in the context of her dream.

Ren watched the girl across from him as she stared at him, an expression of surprise, then thoughtfulness crossing her face as she focused her stare on her mug. A frown came over her face next. She stayed silent, stroking the handle on her mug with her thumb. All of a sudden, she winced, and continued to stare at her mug. Ren paused, unsure of what he should say. Should he tell her to forget about it, that it was okay if she didn’t want to tell him? But she didn’t look particularly angry; indeed, she looked as if she was focusing on a stray thought that hadn’t occurred to her until this very moment. Suddenly, she withdrew her hand from her mug and smacked the kotatsu with a fist, making the liquid in his mug jump. Surprised, he eyed her expression; it had changed to one of confusion. Taking the risk, he asked, “Just?” 

Kyoko shook herself out of her reverie and raised her head to meet Tsuruga-san’s expression of intermingled curiosity and surprise. It was, after all, just a dream. Things didn’t have to make sense in dreams. She smiled reassuringly at Tsuruga-san; she didn’t have to tell him about that part, after all. He would understand why she woke up screaming if she just gave him a barebones explanation. “It’s just, I just had a dream about marrying Shotaro,” she ventured, colouring furiously. “It was horrifying.” 

Ren froze for a moment, then burst out laughing. Really, this girl! She could chase down a speeding car on a bicycle, get perfect on all of ditch her high school transfer exams, and act like a pro in a matter of months, but what was she scared of? Marriage. The cherry on the cake was that it was marriage to a childhood friend that she currently hated, and who, at least according to that part of his mind that he always tried to shut up in her presence, was his top rival for her affections.

Kyoko blushed furiously, watching Tsuruga-san shake with laughter. It was ridiculous, she knew. She brought her mug to her lips and took several large gulps of warm hot chocolate, wishing to remove herself from the room. Melting into a puddle in the floor wasn’t an option, apparently, though she’d tried as he started laughing.

Suddenly, she was blinded by the flood of light in the room. She blinked furiously, trying to see – her vision was clouded with bright spots of white. She could see that Tsuruga-san was doing the exact same thing across from her, having stopped laughing as soon as the lights came back on. No one had thought to turn off the light switch before going to bed, so the lights had come on with the restoration of power.

“Well,” he said, cocking his head to one side as she finally regained enough of her vision to see him clearly. “I would say that was interesting. And the apartment should warm up soon.” 

Kyoko smiled; he wasn’t going to ridicule her. She caught sight of his clock hanging in the room; it was as much for show as for use, not being digital, and drew in a quick breath of surprise. 

“It’s almost two in the morning!” she blurted out, suddenly feeling slightly guilty. She wasn’t really used to staying up this late, actress or not. 

Ren chuckled at the expression on her face. “So it is,” he agreed, taking a long draught of his hot chocolate. “If you think you can sleep now, we can finish this and go to bed.” Part of him wanted her to say no, so that he could stay up with her longer. 

“Yes, I’m fine now,” Kyoko said, crushing his hopes. “Thank you very much,” she offered, finishing her hot chocolate. He imitated her, finishing his hot chocolate quickly and passing the mug into the hand she offered to him. “I’ll go put these in the sink to soak. I’ll wash them in the morning,” she said. A smile came on to her face.

He nodded, concealing his disappointment. It was a good thing that she felt better, he snapped at himself inwardly. He rose from the table, blowing out the candles he had lit earlier. “Good night, Kyoko-chan,” he called out softly to her retreating back as she left for the kitchen, looking much smaller than usual in his ridiculously oversized shirt. 

She paused and glanced back at him. His eyes held a remarkable level of caring, she realized. Had that always been there? She didn’t know; she had never thought about that before. “Good night,” she replied, pausing as she tried to find the appropriate words to call him. Senpai? No, that wasn’t quite right. Tsuruga-san wasn’t right either, it felt too . . . too formal, she realized. But she certainly couldn’t call him by his first name! “Tsuruga-kun,” she finished shyly, and continued her path into the kitchen. 

Ren stared at her as she walked into the kitchen without a second glance at him. “Well,” he murmured softly, blissfully happy. “I couldn’t really have expected her to call me Ren-kun.” He shook his head as he waited at the door to his bedroom, one hand on the light switch, for Kyoko to finish in the kitchen and return to the spare bedroom. Yashiro would have teased him for enjoying some small and trivial progress again. He heard the water running in the kitchen, and soon after, Kyoko crossed the living room, giving him a shy smile, and returned to the spare bedroom. 

He flicked off the lights and returned to his bed. As a bonus, he thought, Kyoko is clearly opposed to marrying Sho Fuwa. This time, he fell asleep easily. 

In the spare bedroom, Kyoko stared at the ceiling, Moko’s words again echoing through her mind. “Maybe . . . Tsuruga-san likes you?” She rolled over, getting into a more comfortable position in her cold blankets. “That’s ridiculous,” she snapped to the wall. “Absolutely ridiculous.” 

She banished the thought from her mind and slept, dreaming troubled dreams, all of them starring that strange Tsuruga-kun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written December 2007, therefore previous notes apply.


	3. Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s Christmas Day, and the blizzard has passed, leaving behind only three feet of snow!

Ren awoke to the smell of sizzling sausages, sweet and enticing. “Mmm,” he murmured softly into his pillow, rolling over. It had been some time since he woke to that particular smell. He squinted at the red numbers on the bedside clock; it was flashing twelve. He groaned softly into his pillow, cursing himself for having forgotten to reset it last night. He’d been in such a good mood that he’d fallen in bed and slept without thinking of it. Good mood? Maybe giddy would have been a better word for it.

Well, whatever time it was, the sun was shining clearly through the curtains. Time to get up, he thought, willing his body to obey. It took several attempts and momentous effort to even pull his body to an upright position. Sitting up, he rubbed sleep out of his eyes and set his bare feet on the floor.

The coldness of the hardwood floor cleared the fog from his brain. He shook his head once, just to shake himself out of it, before getting dressed.

In the kitchen, Kyoko hummed softly to herself as she threw two eggs into the frying pan. She hoped that Tsuruga-kun wouldn’t mind a Western-style breakfast; his refrigerator had been devoid of so many basic foods that she had been forced to improvise. How did the man even survive? She’d used the eggs that were left over from the cake the previous night, and had managed to find some pre-cooked sausages in the fridge. Suspicious of how old they were, she’d fried them just to make sure they were safe to eat. Predictably, Tsuruga-kun did have bread; it was about the easiest thing to toast and eat in the morning, after all.

“What time is it?” Tsuruga-kun’s voice was uncharacteristically groggy as he entered the kitchen, running a comb through his hair. “Good morning, Kyoko-chan,”

“Good morning, Tsuruga-kun. It’s eight-thirty,” Kyoko replied, concentrating as she slid the finished eggs onto a waiting plate. Another plate was already finished, with two eggs, four slices of bacon, and a thick slice of toast. “I hope you don’t mind a Western-style breakfast; it was all I could make with the ingredients at hand.”  
“It’s no problem at all,” Tsuruga-kun replied, smiling down at her. Kyoko eyed him suspiciously. There had been no Emperor-of-the-Night occurrences last night, but that didn’t mean one wasn’t coming. Plus, there was something about him . . . “A Christmas present for you,” he added, as he fished a small box out from his pockets.

“Oh,” Kyoko said, surprised, somewhat distressed. She hid that. She hadn’t thought that senpais normally gave presents at Christmas to their kouhais. This was rather unsettling; giving presents seemed like such a, such a . . . romantic thing to do. Like making chocolate hearts to give your true love on Valentine’s Day. She shook her head inwardly. Clearly, Moko’s words were bothering her too much. “You didn’t have to. I left your present on the kotatsu. Could you get the coffee?” She smiled, motioning with her head at the two steaming cups of coffee as she picked up the plates of food, and led the way to the living room and the kotatsu.

Ren slipped the box back into his pocket to pick up the coffee, shaking his head as he followed her to the living room. How did she do it? She could be such a klutz on the set, knocking down equipment and tripping over wires, but given several plates of food, could balance them all without dropping a single one. He wasn’t surprised, however, that Kyoko had gotten him a present; it was very like her to get presents for others, but never expect any for herself. He had, in fact, gotten a present for her on this very supposition.

He watched her set the plates down on the table before seating herself across from him, and set down the steaming mugs of coffee. He was glad that she hadn’t filled the mugs as full as she could have; if she did, he was sure that he would have spilled. He wordlessly pulled her present out of his pocket and slid it across the table. The atmosphere was tense, awkward.

“Shall I open mine first?” he asked, wishing fervently to break the awkward silence. Kyoko nodded, quietly toying with the green ribbon on the present he’d given her. Ren carefully unwrapped her present, wrapped in red tissue paper.

Kyoko watched him do so, his long fingers gently finding the places where tape held the sheets together, prying it open. Even Tsuruga-kun could not unwrap tissue paper without tearing it, though she noted that he tried. Oh, she really shouldn’t have given him what she had; it was going to reflect very, very badly on her.

“A doll?” he asked, amused, raising a plush keychain model of Kyoko herself. “Why a doll?”

Kyoko blushed furiously. “It’s a good luck charm,” she informed him defiantly, well aware that her present made it look as if she was a crazy fangirl in love with him. “It’ll eat any bad luck or curses that people put on you.”

“I . . . see,” Ren replied, as much amused by her reaction as he was by the present itself. Her fairytale tendencies had not changed a bit. It really was a very cute keychain, though Ren wished she hadn’t dressed it in that eye-watering uniform of the Love Me Section. “Your turn,” he said, motioning at the small blue box he had slid across the table at her. He watched as Kyoko unwrapped the present with trembling fingers.

“It’s pretty,” she said, an odd note in her voice as she pulled out the necklace. A tiny four-leaf clover hung from the delicate silver chain, the design simple and elegant.

“A good luck charm,” Ren hastened to reassure her. He was aware that he was encroaching upon what he liked to call ‘dangerously romantic territory.’ A push too strong in this direction would have Kyoko fleeing from him, and erasing him from her mind.

She relaxed visibly, a sheepish smile spreading across her features. “Thank you,” she said, before digging into her food.

Ren reached over to grab the remote control and turned on the TV before doing the same. While he would have liked the break the awkward silence that ensued, he couldn’t think of anything to say.

_“. . .And so last night’s freak blizzard has left in its wake three feet of snow,” the announcer was saying, the projector displaying several pictures behind him. “Snowplows are out on the streets, but citizens are encouraged to stay off the roads unless absolutely necessary” the announcer laughed, “not that it is of any importance to any romantic couples out there who would be more than happy to spend some time with that special someone this Christmas. On another note, the storm has left behind it a large high pressure system which is likely to dominate the weather patterns the next few days, so plenty of sunny clear weather to look forward to into next week. . .”_

Kyoko frowned at the TV as she meticulously dipped her toast into her egg yolk. The reason she hated Christmas was that it was such a romantic holiday; really, only Valentine’s Day was worse. Or was Valentine’s Day worse? At least on Valentine’s Day, she could make and give chocolate to Moko and Maria, and celebrate that. There was no need to go into hiding on Valentine’s Day. On the other hand, she would be surrounded by girls talking about confessing their love on Valentine’s Day, which she didn’t get at Christmas. Why were people so love-obsessed anyway? What was so great about it? All it led to was a broken heart.

Speaking of such things, what was Tsuruga-kun thinking, getting her a present? And such a gift it was. Yes, he had said (rather glibly, in her opinion) that it was a good luck charm, and she knew that four-leaf clovers were considered lucky in the West, but still . . . Why would she get a gift at all, really? It didn’t make any sense to her.

Actually, it did make sense. It was all building evidence that perhaps, just perhaps, Moko was right. But she didn’t want to think about that.

“Sunny days,” Tsuruga-kun said, dispelling those dark thoughts from her mind. She looked away from the TV. “I guess the crew isn’t going to be too happy about that.”

Kyoko laughed. Indeed, tomorrow they were counting on cloudy skies. “How do you think they’ll cover it up?”

“Well, we only need a dark sky; at least it doesn’t have to rain or anything.” Tsuruga-kun smiled, toying with his fork, thinking. “They could have us to the scene inside and add the background using CG later, but I think they’ll only do that if it absolutely can’t be covered up. If we can angle it so the sun isn’t in the way, we’ll be able to do the scene outdoors, and they’ll fix the lighting later. Or maybe,” he smiled down at her, “Or maybe the weather report will be wrong and we will have cloudy skies tomorrow. That would be preferable.”

Kyoko smiled in return. “The weather report is wrong half the time anyway,” she said, finishing up her breakfast. She sipped at her coffee, watching the variety show that had come on as she waited for Tsuruga-kun to finish.

“I’ll give you a ride home.” Tsuruga-kun said as he finished. He gave his empty plate and mug to Kyoko, who held out a hand for them. She piled them neatly onto her own dishes and took them to the kitchen to wash.

“Are the roads cleared yet?” she called out from the kitchen. Tsuruga-kun was already at the window, checking. There wasn’t any real reason why it wouldn’t be; Tsuruga-kun lived in a very well-to-do area, close to a major road. His roads would be one of the first areas to be cleared. She wasn’t so sure about her own area though.

“They should be,” Tsuruga-kun replied, as Kyoko put the plates on a dish rack to dry. She couldn’t reach the cabinets where they belonged anyway. “Are you ready to go?”

To be quite honest with himself, Ren was more than reluctant to take Kyoko home. There was something about her being in his apartment that felt oddly right; that she belonged in this setting, in this apartment . . . with him. But if he did not take the time to drive her home, he knew that she would have set off on foot back to Darumaya anyway, and any attempts to convince her to stay would likely scare her off. He would feel better about driving a girl home than simply letting her walk the whole way.

“Oh, yes,” Kyoko replied instantly. She dried her hands on a dishtowel which she had hung on the oven door, and dashed off to grab her winter coat, hat and mittens. She pulled her shoulder bag over her head so it hung neatly by her side.

“You almost forgot this,” Ren passed her her gift as he pulled on his own winter jacket and grabbed his car keys. Kyoko was already waiting at the door when he pulled on his shoes.

The car ride back was quiet. For once, Ren wished he had not imposed a strict no talking rule in his car, but he knew he would not be able to handle Tokyo’s rush hour traffic without it. Looking over at her, he saw that she was staring out the window, a pensive look on her face. Was she staring at the mountains of snow on either side of the road, at least five feet high? Every now and again, she would pull out the necklace and just stare at it, before putting it away again. Ren sighed inwardly, wishing as he often did when she did things like this, that Kyoko would confide in him more. There was no use pushing her, as knowing her, she would just clam up about it.

Pulling up to Darumaya, he got out as Kyoko did. “Thank you for coming to keep me company yesterday,” he said, rather formally. “and thank you for the cake.”

“It’s no problem,” Kyoko replied, smiling. Somehow, it looked that much sweeter, surrounded by mountains of snow, a pink knit cap keeping her hair tame. She stared down at the ground, nudging a bit of snow with her foot. “Thank you for letting me stay the night,” she said softly. “And for, for listening to me about the nightmare.” A light blush coloured her cheeks.

“It’s no problem,” Ren returned as she looked up at him. Why did she have to look so, so utterly kissable at this moment? A couple strands of chestnut brown blew across her face. Her eyes, brown as well, were warm and inviting; her expression uncommonly shy. He wanted nothing more, at the moment, than to lean down and give her a kiss, just one kiss, on those pink lips.

Just one kiss would be okay, wouldn’t it? Wouldn’t it?

Kyoko stared up at the older actor, whose dark brown hair fluttered in the breeze, his brown eyes unreadable. He looked enigmatic, powerful, handsome in the clear winter day. “Well, I’ll, I’ll see you tomorrow at the Tsukigomori filming,” she stammered, turning away. She didn’t like these feelings in her at the moment, not at all.

“Kyoko-chan,” he said, and it was her only warning before he enveloped her in a tight hug. “Merry Christmas.”

To her surprise, she hugged him back. “Merry Christmas,” she murmured into his coat. He had a musty smell; like old books in a library. Old pages and ink . . .

He let her go as suddenly as he had hugged her. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he smiled, before getting back into his car and driving away. He was gone before she could say anything else.

Kyoko turned mechanically back to Darumaya, and forced her legs to make the short walk up to the doors. The Okami-san and Taisho-san welcomed her back easily, wishing her Merry Christmas, as she knew they would; she automatically smiled and wished them Merry Christmas in return. In her room, she dropped her bag on the floor and shed her coat, hat and mitts, before collapsing onto her bed.

 _What on earth just happened?_ Her mind shrieked at her, as she buried her head under her pillow. _What the hell?!_

Unbeknownst to her, Ren had only driven a couple blocks before pulling to the side of the road. A giddy smile spread across his face as he dropped his head into his arms, resting on the steering wheel. He was glad that his windows were tinted, for no one would be able to watch the giddy breakdown of Ren Tsuruga.

In her bedroom, Kyoko lifted her head out from under her pillow, taking in several deep breaths. This was an emergency. This was nothing short of an emergency. That meant that she had to call Moko. Moko would know what to do. She pulled out her cell phone and dialled the familiar numbers. Moko picked up on the second ring.

“Oh, Kyoko,” she said, surprised. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” Kyoko said, before breaking down. “It’s a _disaster_! I don’t know what to _do_ , Moko!”

“Wait, wait,” Moko replied. “ _What’s_ a disaster? What’s wrong?”

“And then he _hugged_ me, Moko! I don’t understand! What do I _do?_ ” Kyoko babbled on.

“ _Who_ hugged you? Calm down and start from the beginning!” It was lucky for her that Moko had dealt with her in a panicked state several times before, and knew exactly what to do. “I’ll _hang up_ if you don’t calm down, breathe, and start from the beginning!”

Kyoko sucked in air, following her directions. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Repeat until calm. After a few moments, she recounted to her friend all that happened since the previous night, when she had received a phone call from Yashiro.

In her cozy apartment, Kanae pulled the phone away from her ear, staring at it. Kyoko’s voice was still perfectly audible, her tone escalating as she reached the climax of her tale. At that moment, she knew exactly what had happened, and she knew that her friend would not take well to it. And she knew that telling her friend that “Ren Tsuruga is head over heels in love with you,” would not bode well; Kyoko would panic again, and that would do no one any good. And that was just the least of it; certainly she couldn’t say “Kyoko, you’re in love with Ren Tsuruga too.” Kanae shuddered at the very thought.

Oh, they were so utterly hopeless, those two. So utterly, completely hopeless. At the moment, it was probably best to suggest an alternative explanation; Kyoko herself must suspect that Tsuruga-san was in love with her now.

“Maybe,” she heard herself say, “It was just the mood of the holidays. Hugging isn’t a very big deal, after all. And Christmas is full of holiday cheer; it makes sense that he would hug you, and you would hug back, right?”

“Of course!” Kyoko’s voice echoed the relief she obviously felt. “So it really didn't mean anything, did it?"

“No, not at all,” Kanae was glad that Kyoko couldn’t see her face, for she wore an expression that completely contradicted her words.

“So it was all just caused by holiday cheer!” Kyoko was happy, that much was clear. “Thank you, Moko, you’re my best friend _ever!_ Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas,” Kanae returned, before hanging up the phone.

Disaster averted, but she knew it was only a matter of time. Oh, they were so _screwed!_

Kyoko hung up the phone in a much better mood. Of course it was all just a result of holiday cheer; after all, all those couples kissing out on the street yesterday, all the TV programmes today focused on love, it only made sense that it would rub off. A hug on Christmas Day didn’t mean anything at all! She skipped down to the kitchen to help the Okami-san make lunch.

Ren eventually drove back to his apartment, and pulled out his stack of books again. _Life of Pi_ , where was he again? Oh, it didn’t matter. He couldn’t concentrate on the words anyway; the English words were slithering away under his fingertips. He tossed the book onto the coffee table, leaned his head back on the couch, and stared at the ceiling, thinking back. Her soft body, warm even through her winter coat, the knit texture of her hat, the lingering flowery smell of her body wash in his mind . . . the way that she had wrapped her own arms around him, returning his embrace. For him, that was heaven in a nutshell.

The only thing left to see was if Kyoko would talk to him tomorrow.

***

The next day, Yashiro was eagerly awaiting the results of his genius plan. If all went according to plan, Ren and Kyoko would be a great deal happier, and the women of Japan, disappointed. And really, it should have gone according to plan; how hard could it be? Seeing the weather report, he sent Kyoko to Ren, supposedly to keep him company, and the storm had indeed struck. Furthermore, he knew that Ren’s apartment was in one of the districts of power outages, so Kyoko should have been forced to stay the night. A perfect opportunity for a love confession, a realization of feelings, and on the most romantic night of the year. . .

“Good morning, Yashiro-san!” Kyoko was, as usual, on set early. The scar did take three hours to put on, he recalled. And she had a large role in one of the scenes to be filmed today. She seemed happy, but no happier than usual . . . “Here’s your present!” She passed him a wrapped box.

“Thank you!” He smiled down at her through his glasses. “May I open it?” he asked, untying the ribbon that held the whole affair together.

“Of course,” Kyoko laughed. “What else are presents for?”

“I was being polite,” Yashiro excused himself. “A tie! Thank you!” He brandished his gift, a plain red tie, one that would match most of the suits in his wardrobe. “How was your holiday?”

“You’re welcome,” Kyoko replied. “It was good, Tsuruga-kun and I baked a Christmas cake.”

Tsuruga-kun? Surely over the weekend, she had been stranded at his place, and _surely_ they would have made more progress than that?

“Were you hit badly by the blizzard?” he asked. Maybe his information had been bad, and Kyoko hadn’t been forced to stay the night?

“Oh, yes,” Kyoko replied. “Were you? I had to stay the night in Tsuruga-kun’s apartment, it’s a good thing he had a spare bedroom. And we did lose power, but it came back on around two in the morning, so it wasn’t too bad.”

“Oh, no, my area didn’t lose power or anything, it was fine,” Yashiro replied. Had Ren _really_ made as little progress as Kyoko was indicating?

“That’s good,” Kyoko said agreeably. “I’ve got to go get my makeup done; you know how long that scar takes.” She smiled sheepishly and disappeared into the makeup rooms.

“Good morning, Yashiro-san,” Ren appeared behind him. Yashiro whirled, furious at his friend.

 _“You damn failure as a lover!”_ he snapped, berating his charge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes from previous chapters apply.

**Author's Note:**

> Written November 2007; note that while it canonically still makes sense, it was written around Chapter 110 before the canonical Christmas arc.


End file.
